


Love letter to the universe

by elyteracy



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alien Hunk, Alien Shiro, Altean Lance (Voltron), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Circus, Heist, Illegal radio, Klance Big Bang 2017, M/M, Minor Character Death, Outer Space, Rewrite of the first episode, Space Circus, is it a heist if you steal a person?, it's Pidge, it's an oc, what if only one of them was human
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-12
Updated: 2017-11-12
Packaged: 2019-02-01 13:46:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12706218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elyteracy/pseuds/elyteracy
Summary: Lance works in a space circus. Keith is part of the Blades of Marmora. Shiro is missing, as always, imprisoned by the Galra. Hunk is the owner of a cooking and mechanics shop. Pidge is still looking for her family.A retelling of the first episode, if our five paladins weren't all born on the same planet, Earth. It's a wonder they even find each other.





	Love letter to the universe

**Author's Note:**

> one: i prefer telling you now, some things in this fic will never be answered, they are meant to be mysteries and they will stay mysteries  
> second: the klance is very light, if you expect a very dramatic relationship, well, good fucking luck  
> third: shoutout to my amazing artist flat-san whose work i will link here once it is posted
> 
> kill me now, i just want the sweet release of death
> 
>  
> 
> [join me on tumblr](https://elyteracy.tumblr.com)

Keith lands on all four. Jeelal rolls after her jump, already in movement. Antok is the last to join, his tail slithering along the floor as he crawls along the outer walls of the ship.

"Last reminder of the mission," Jeelal says over the Comm in their masks. "Antok and I are going straight for her bureau. Keith, you keep an eye on her during the show. Warn us when she comes back. Don't let anyone recognize you."

"Got it," Keith confirms.

He crouches low as they climb the circus' space ship. Their shoes are made specifically for this type of mission. They stick to metallic surfaces, preventing them from being thrown into deep space. Keith rather likes them.

Their objective is a small round door used for reparations. The ship is an old model. She opens it on the third try.

She is the first to jump inside. Keith follows and Antok closes the door behind them.

Keith automatically grips the sword at his side and surveys his surroundings. They fell into a narrow badly lit corridor, as they had planned. Unpractical and superfluous, this exit is rarely used.

Jeelal crouches low, her blaster already in hand. With one hand, she indicates for them to split up. They've studied the plans and know their way by heart.

They wait. The voices of Galra soldiers drift to them. Antok and Jeelal are flattened against the wall, their weapons ready. The moment the Galra soldiers turn the corner, they jump on them, knocking them out in efficient strikes.

Jeelal snickers. "Too easy."

She glances at the soldiers on the floor. "Fortunately, Galra armor are adjustable. You are just too tall, Antok."

Jeelal and Antok put their armors on.

Antok's tail hits the wall and the noise seems to echo all around them. Both Keith and Jeelal glare at him. Antok shrugs and starts walking toward the circus owner's bureau.

Keith pulls a long cape from his bag. There are no reasons for Galra soldiers to stop him. He's the only one who doesn't look Galra in the slightest. He is glad for his human-half as it makes him as unsuspicious as possible.

"Hey, you!"

Keith's blood freezes. He turns around. "Yes?" He answers in Galran, with the thickest accent he can fake.

"You shouldn't be back here."

Keith ducks his head to hide his face. "Yes, I understand. I was waiting for people to be seated. Crowds make me nervous."

The Galra soldier frowns. "I don't care, just get out of my way."

He nods and makes his way toward the auditorium, the room the ship is build around, the central piece of this spacecraft.

He'd seen the plans of course, but he hadn't quite realized. The auditorium is huge and high. Space seems to spill into it, visible through the enormous glass ceiling. Various balconies around the walls contain all sorts of creatures. Keith can recognize most of them, but it is strange to see all these species gathered in one place.

Chatters and clicks and groans fill his ears and the room, all encompassing and full background noise. Space has never been so louder, Keith thinks, looking at the ceiling. In the darkness, it is almost invisible. Keith isn't used to that much noise.

He hides himself in a shadowy corner, close to the stairs. From his hiding place, he has a perfect vantage point, and proximity to the exit, just in case.

The lights dim slowly. The silence falls on the crowd. Darkness fills the room, and all around them, on the wall and ceiling, small crystals awaken, basking the room in a soft flickering blue light.

A silhouette walks in the middle of the scene, tall, black fabric floating around it like smoke, and steps in the light. Her white hair falls on their shoulders, shocking against her dark blue skin. Her six eyes surveys the crown, iridescent, unreadable and devoid of pupils.

"Welcome," she says, and her voice fills the room in its entirety, deep and strong. "I am the All-Seer, Witness of Time and Holder of Truth. I will be your guide through this journey."

She extends her four arms around her, and golden dust falls from the ceiling. It covers her black dress with glittering particles.

"We are at the very beginning, when time didn't exist and only the Void was present."

The All-Seer throws one arm up and disappears in a ruffle of fabric. It falls on the floor, empty, unused.

Music drifts in. It fills the space, extends between the walls, curls into the corners of the room.

A dancer enters. They have wings instead of arms. Their feathers are dark purple, glistening under the dim light. They jump, using their wings to reach higher. They twirl in the air, tornado of violet colors. They land and slide around the room in rhythm with the music.

They make their way to the middle, where the cloth left by the All-Seer is laying on the floor. They bat their wings, again and again and again, and the cloth rises under the wind, until it flies around them. It seems to have a life of its own and circles around the dancer, twists down, and rises up, and one moment it is only fabric and the next it is a bird, hovering in the air.

The crowd erupts with shouts of amazement. Keith follows the animal with wide eyes. The bird circles around the room, grazing the raised limbs of the spectators.

It falls. Before it hits the floor, the bird becomes cloth again and covers the dancer, whose body collapses into the floor. Nothing stays but the black fabric, laid on the ground, once again.

"The Void was alone and lonely," the All-Seer's voice narrates, in Lik, the common language of the universe, said to be as old as Time itself.

Keith jumps. It comes from his right, close. Too close.

The All-Seer stands at the entry of the room, at the top of stairs, a few meters away from Keith. She looks at him for an instant. Her eyes seem to peer through him, all the way to his soul, dark and soft, like a gentle night spent dreaming.

Keith pulls his hood further over his head. Their orders have been clear, people can't know they are here. He looks around but no one seems to have noticed. Galra soldiers are still posted at the door, looking bored.

She descends the stair. Her dress trails behind her, unfurling like fog, leaving golden dust in her steps.

"It wished for company."

She reaches the end of the stairs. She traverses the scene, picked up the cloth. She throws it above her head.

 "It wished and hoped so hard, a star appeared."

The All-Seer walks away, swallowed behind the curtains.

The cloth lands, and seems to meet an invisible body, outlining a face, the contour of a back. It embraces the form until the body rises. The cloth falls, uncovers the winged dancer from earlier.

A body falls from the ceiling, twirling, and Keith almost shouts. It stops a few meters above ground, held by blue ribbons.

The new artist is a boy. He looks human, like himself. Keith can't take his eyes off him. He has travelled the universe, and it is the first he has found someone like him.

The artist is all long limbs and elegance, tangled in silk. His brown skin highlights his light blue of his costume. Swirling marks are painted in silver over his cheeks and back, uncovered by his outfit.

He lets himself fall back, held by the ribbons around the waist. He grips the shoulders of the winged dancer. They start to walk in circles around the room, increasing their pace, until they are running. The boy locks his arms around their torso and lifts them off the floor. Suspended by his legs, his partner and he fly through the room, turning on themselves, turning in the air.

The show continues, telling the story of how the universe was born from the love of the Void and a star. Acts follow each other, intertwined by the All-Seer's haunting words. The crowd drinks the magic, the dances and the acrobatics, eyes wide, scared of missing a second.

"And it is said," the All-Seer narrates, "that the Star gave up her existence to create Life, so that the Void would never be alone. From her light was born first the Likja, Guardians of Life, Weavers of  Futures, who can remember the Past and see all possible events to come, the ones who will and the ones who won't, sometimes called Fate or Destiny, for their tendency to knit a path toward one outcome."

She stands straight and says: "Life thrived under their guidance, and although they were forgotten by many, their mischievous scheming has brought you here, to listen to the prologue of their story. Thank you."

Keith is mesmerized. Beauty just for the sake of it is rare and useless in the Blade of Marmora. They don't have time for entertainment. They don't have time for something this frivolous and ephemeral.

He almost forgets his job, but the thunder of applause brings him back to reality. He turns on his Communicator, hidden under his shirt. "The show has just ended. The All-Seer left. I'm making my way toward you."

"Understood. Don't get caught," Jeelal says.

He slips between creatures, walking toward the exit. On his way out, his steals a scarf and golden necklace. He wraps the scarf around his head and his lower face, and the necklace resting over it. He cannot afford to be seen wandering twice, it will seem suspicious.

He has studied and learned the blueprints of the ship and has no trouble finding his way. The chatters of spectators leaving the spacecraft and making their way to their own ship is becoming more and more distant. The hallways grow darker and emptier.

The sound of footsteps reach his ears. He looks around for somewhere to hide, but draws short. Two Galra turn around the corner. Their yellow eyes settle on Keith. Their hands go to their blaster.

"What are you doing here?" One of them asks.

Keith stares at them and signs something. The Galra soldier frowns. "What?"

The other elbows him. "I think it's an Yvuq," he whispers to his colleague.

"You mean a Sand Crawler?"

"Don't call it that, I've heard they can curse you!"

The two soldiers look at him once again. "You going back to your spaceship? Where is it parked?"

Keith tilts his head, faking incomprehension. He taps his mouth, still covered by the cloth, and draws a circle in the air.

"I got no idea what it's saying."

"Just let it go, who cares. "

"Get out of here," the first soldier says, and clicks his tongue.

Keith hurries past them, keeping his head down. "Idiots," he mutters under his breath, once he is sure he can't be heard. He takes off the scarf and the jewelry, and throws them in an empty room. He won't need them anymore.

Antok is waiting in front of the room when he arrives. His tail is lazily brushing the floor back and forth. He nods at Keith when he sees him.

 _Everything went well?_ Antok signs.

"Yes. Ran into two guards, but made them think I was an Yvuq," he explains. "Signing helped scare them away."

Antok's laugh is soundless, as always, but his shoulders shake. Keith gives a little grin.

"I did not expect visitors," a voice says.

Keith instantly recognizes it. The All-Seer stands behind him, still dressed in her shimmering dress. He hasn't heard her, and it makes him deeply uncomfortable.

Her voice is rougher, colder, in Galran.

"If you don't mind, I'd like to pass," she says. She waves one of her four hands toward the door. Keith only notices now that she only has four fingers.

Keith takes a step back. The All-Seer brushes past him and she smells like space, like a dying star, like the smoke of a put out fire.

Jeelal is sitting in the All-Seer's chair, her feet and her mask up on the desk. "All-Seer, we'd like to make you an offer."

"If we are going to talk business, maybe we should exchange name. You can call me Kader."

Jeelal grins. "Jeelal. Why don't you take a seat, Kader?" She says.

Kader sits on the other side of her desk, in the guest chair. "Why are you here, and who are you?"

"We are the Blade of Marmora, a rebellion against the Galra Empire," Jeelal explains. "We need a cover to infiltrate a planet where you will be making a stop."

Kader cocks her head to the side. Her hair follows the movement, like a curtain of white fabric. "I believe you are aware of our affiliation with the Empire."

"Yes, we are," Jeelal says.

The tension is so thick between the two women, Keith can almost taste it on his tongue. His muscles are tensed and his fingers brush the hilt of his sword.

"Why should we help you? This circus is all I have. I will do anything to protect it."

Jeelal opens her mouth to answer, but a knock on the door cuts her off. She throws a glance at Keith over her shoulder. "See who it is."

Keith nods and pulls his sword out of its sheath.

The door slide open to reveal the boy with the ribbons. The one who looks like Keith. He is still in costume, and the silver paint on his face shines under the fluorescent lights of the room. He'd been the star, Keith remembers.

"Galra," the boy says, recognizing the standard uniform of Galra soldiers, but his gaze seems to trip over Keith, taking in his different appearance.

"We are busy. Go back," Keith says. "This doesn't concern you."

Keith's fingers hover close to the switch when Kader's voice interrupts him. "Let him in. He can take part in this... discussion."

Reluctantly, he lets the door open and takes a step to the side. The boy's eyes dart around the room, lingering on Jeelal, sitting at the desk and Antok, standing tall and straight in the corner of the room. "What is going on, Kader?" He asks.

Keith crosses his arms, leaning against the wall, watching him walk toward Kader. His bare feet are almost silent on the tile floor.

"Lance, please sit." Kader extends an arm toward the only empty chair left, the one next to Jeelal.

He sits down. "What's happening? Who are these people?" He asks with large hand movements.

"Rebellion against the Galra Empire. The Blade of...." She trails off.

"Marmora," Keith picks off. "We fight for the liberation of the universe from the Galran hold. We believe that their tyranny should end, now and forever."

"Beautiful words," Kader acknowledges. "But it doesn't explain why you need us, and what you have to offer in exchange for our help."

Jeelal pulls a holographic tablet from her utility belt. She touches the screen a few times, until the image of a planet rises above the tablet. "This planet is Fejilos. One of its biggest cities is Kapi'iera. It is heavily guarded by the Galra Empire. We need an access in."

"Why do you need to get in this city?" Lance hands are curled into fists. His knuckles are white, and his mouth is a thin line. He looks up from the display and stares straight at Jeelal.

"An asset of ours is inside," Jeelal says.

Lance slams his hand on the desk when he stands up. "How do you even expect us to work with you when you won't even tell us the truth? I repeat. Why do you need to get in this city?"

Jeelal stays tight lipped. The next second is heavy and uncomfortable. "Her name is Kiba." Keith's words cut the silence.

"Keith–" Jeelal starts. He raises his arms.

"He is right. We cannot expect them to trust us if we don't say the truth."

Her yellow eyes are hard and cold as she glares at him. "Fine," she spits. "She used to be at a high position in the Galra military. She was accused of treason and imprisoned on Kapi'irea. We believe she has information that could help us take down the Empire. All we need is a cover to get passed the Galra control. You have a planned show in Kapi'irea, you already have access."

"All you need is entry into the city, isn't it?" Kader asks.

"Are you considering helping them? This is crazy!" Lance exclaims.

"Yes," Jeelal confirms, voice firm, ignoring Lance. "In exchange, we can provide you protection."

"We already have protection," Kader says.

Jeelal shakes her head. "No. Not like this. If you accept to help us, every one of you in this circus will get a way out of the Galra Empire's radar. You will disappear completely." Jeelal pauses, canting her chin up. "Safe entry into the Dodging Nebula. For all of you."

"The Dodging Nebula is a myth," Lance counters.

"Your boss does not seem to think so," Jeelal says, grinning, her sharp teeth on display.

"You can't– Kader, this is– You can't be considering it."

Kader sighs. She lays a hand on Lance's curled fist. But when she talks, it isn't to him. "I need time to think about your proposition."

Lance yanks his hand from under Kader's. He stands up, crosses the room in three strides and leaves the room without a word. Antok tilts his head toward the door. Keith nods, and follows Lance out of the room.

"Three quintents, that's all we can give you," Jeelal says.

Kader nods. "It will be enough."

__

With the show finished and the spectators gone, the lamps of the Star's Fortune have been dimmed.

Little floating lights hover along the walls of the circus's ship.  It basks the hallways in soft purple light. They give off a gentle glow, creates shimmering shadows in unexpected places.

Keith had planned on following the sound of Lance's feet, but remembers that he'd been walking silently. He curses under his breath.

He decides to go to the left. He's got nothing to lose.

He finds a storage room. Shelves are covering the walls, holding eclectic assortments of props and objects. Nets are hanging from the ceiling, cascade of colorful fabric picking from the holes. Costumes are lining the sides of the room, bright and shimmering.

Keith trails his finger along the sleeve of a black velvet shirt.

"What are you doing here?"

Keith doesn't jump and he counts that as an achievement. Lance stands in the doorway, arms crossed, mouth twisted, eyes dark. He is dressed in a simple blue shirt and black shorts. The paint has been washed from his skin, but there are still silver marks on his cheekbones, and circles around his shoulders, elbows and knees. Maybe around his ankles too, though Keith cannot be sure in the darkness.

"You shouldn't be here. It is reserved for the performers. Strangers are not allowed, especially those who associate with _Galra_ ," Lance says, spitting the word like poison.

"What's your fucking problem?" Keith growls.

Lance snorts, face twisted in an ugly sneer. "Apart from the fact that you seem to consort with the species who has taken over the universe?"

Keith takes a step and pushes Lance back. "We are part of the rebellion. We are risking our lives to save your sorry ass," he snarls.

"Save us? Bullshit! You want to put the entire circus at risk for one pathetic rescue mission. We could all be captured and killed because of you."

Keith slams Lance against the wall. He makes a pained sound, and sends a deadly glare to Keith.  From so close, Keith can see the blue of his eyes, full and insistent, and the pointy tips of his ears.

"You are so fucking selfish. I don't think you even realize how vital Kiba's information could be. It could be what tips the balance in our favor."

"I'm just trying to protect the people I care about. But I guess, you wouldn't know what that is, caring," Lance sneers, and pushes Keith.

Keith bares his teeth at him, and Lance looks frightened for an instant. "I don't give a fuck about what you think of this mission, as long as you keep your mouth shut."

"I don't have a death wish," Lance says. "Now, get the fuck out of this room."

___

Pidge was nine when she met an alien for the first time.

Her neighbor was an old woman with gray hair and a gentle smile. Her human name was Pauline. In reality, she had three eyes, a mouth full of teeth, and skin like a snake.

She was the gentlest creature Pidge had ever met, and she liked baking pies.

_"Are the stars pretty from space?"_

_"Blindingly pretty."_

Pidge was fourteen when she developed the Alien Radio.

_"What is Voltron?"_

_"A myth."_

Pidge was fifteen when her brother and father were kidnapped.

_"I have a ship."_

_"Are you sure?"_

_"I don't need it anymore. You do, take it."_

She was sixteen when she left with Pauline's ship, and a couple months older when she met the crew of the Faei's Tail.

_"You want a ride? Where to?"_

_"The Black Whole."_

_"You're funny. The Black Whole doesn't exist."_

_"I can pay."_

_"With what?"_

_"Information."_

_"Now we're talking."_

__

A knock on the door pulls her out of her thoughts. "You done?" Asks Jun, poking her head in the room. She looked vaguely human, if you didn't count her long tail, her lack of eyes and her dark green skin.

Chatter fills her ears. Galran talking about operations, and this word, Voltron, repeated, always and forever. With a sigh, she writes down important information she has learned today, and closes her laptop.

She stands up and joins Jun outside of the room. "Did you need something?"

Jun shakes her head. Her long ears twitch a little. "We've almost arrived. That's all."

Pidge carefully wraps all of her scanning gear. She shoulders her bag and follows Jun through the ship. "So you are leaving for good?"

Pidge pushes her glasses back on her nose. "Yes. There is someone I need to find."

The door opens and they step into the control room. The Captain is sitting in his chair, his feet on the dashboard, the autopilot doing all the work, as usual.

"We could help you, you know," Jun says, shrugging.

"You smuggle things. Not people."

"We'd probably smuggle anything for the right amount of money," the Captain says, from his seat.

Jun tilts her head towards him, as if to say _See, I told you._

Pidge shakes her head. "Just drop me off at the Black Whole, as usual."

"You got it, Radio Star," the Captain says, with a lazy wave of his hand.

"I only listen, and you know it," Pidge counters.

"That's what you say." The Captain twirls his chair in circles, giving Pidge the beginning of a headache.

Jun leans against the wall. "You could earn so much if you actively used this information."

Pidge readjusts her bag on her shoulders. "I exchange it. Information is power, Jun, but I suppose you wouldn't understand, even though you count on my information to predict where the Galra will be."

Jun laughs. "Sorry, did I look like I cared?"

"Information is a currency," Pidge continues, ignoring Jun's sarcasm. "Coordinates, plans, all these things are valuable. People know, and people pay."

"Spoken like a true information broker," the Captain says. "Now get the hell off my ship. We are there."

Pidge starts leaving the room. Jun calls her name. She looks over her shoulders. Jun waves at her. "Hope you find who you're looking for."

"Go back to your smuggled weapons."

Jun's laughter follows her in the hallway.

Black Whole is a city used to visitors. No one stays in Black Whole. It is temporary station, a passing stopover. Black Whole is a merchant city, a place to find what you heart desires. A place to disappear for the face of the universe.

She expects the usual mess of Black Whole, but it always surprises her. The streets, even the wide open alleys at the center, are filled to the brim with aliens. The entire universe can be found between the carts and sellers. The air is filled with the insistent chattering of a thousand beings, all crammed in a too small space.

She uses her elbows to make her way to a cart in the middle of the street. An alien is standing on the counter, holding a sign saying: _Tourists Guide._

"Welcome to the Black Whole, capital city of the Dodging Nebula!" Screams the alien. He looks like a purple lizard with, though he only has two arms and one long tail. "You can find anything in Black Whole, and if you can't find it, it doesn't exist!"

She puts her elbows on the counter, and raises an eyebrow. "Are you still trying to swindle innocent bystanders, Mahk?"

Sleazy Makh, whose real name was surprisingly not Sleazy Mahk, grins at her from her perch. But no one's name was really their name in Black Whole. "Pidge, haven't seen you in a while! Thought you'd gotten caught by the Galra Empire. Would have been a shame really."

"Funny," Pidge deadpans. "You know everyone here, don't you?"

"That I do," he confirms, baring his black pointy teeth. "Who do you need, and what can you pay?"

"I need someone to get me on Kapi'iera."

Sleazy Mahk hums for a moment. "I may know a guy," he says, and lays on the counter, a hand holding his head. "Depends how much you offer."

Pidge huffs. "What do you want to know?"

Sleazy Mahk drums his fingers on the counter. "Someone told me you were in good terms with the Faei's Tail."

"Not here. Let's find somewhere away from curious ears," she says.

A dark muddy alley is what qualifies as away from prying eyes for Sleazy Mahk. It is disgusting enough that it keeps every one else at bay, and they are effectively alone. Pidge supposes it works.

"I am," she confirms, and watches Sleaky Mahk's eyes glint.

"For reasons that I cannot disclose, I need to know what their last shipment was."

Pidge purses her lips. She looks around her, checking that the alley is truly empty. "I wasn't going to ask what your reasons was," she says. "I know better."

"So, what was it?" Sleazy Mahk urges her.

"Balmeran crystal. Big enough to power a small fighting ship."

Sleazy Mahk clucks his tongue. It sounds weird coming for a lizard mouth. "Good to know," he says, more to himself than Pidge. "Let's get you to your guy now, shall we?"

___

Sleazy Mahk leads her to a shop in the small quieter streets at the edge of the city. The signs reads in yellow neon lights Mechanic and Cook.

It is an odd combination.

She pushes the door, who is surprisingly not automatic. A tall alien raises his head and smiles at her. His skin is a soft dark teal. It is covered with silvery lines who look like circuits patterns. He has four arms. Apart from that, the alien looks eerily like a human.

"Hi, how can I help you today?" He greets her.

Pidge knows the exact moment the alien sees Sleazy Mahk because his smiles drops and he makes a face. "You," he says, with disgust. "What are you doing here?"

"Just delivering a client," Sleazy Mahk says. "I'm already on my way out."

"You better be."

"Good doing business with you, Pidge."

"I thought you were on your way out?"

The door clanks behind Sleazy Mahk.

Pidge pulls out a pouch from her bag. She lays it on the counter, but keeps a hand on it.  The alien comes closer from around the counter.

He looks at her, his eyebrows drawn together. "I don't trust people who hang out with Mahk."

"I wouldn't either. He's a thief and a liar."

"It's called business," the alien says, imitating Sleazy Mahk's careless drawl.

Pidge chuckles. "Sounds like him alright."

He smiles, seemingly more at ease. "I'm Hunk, mechanic and cook. Is there something you need?"

She uncovers the plasma blaster. He inspects it without touching it. "Galra tech," he says. "This is a rare model. It's risky to even carry it around."

"It still functioning. I even have a couple of energy packs I can throw with," Pidge says, her hand still on the blaster.

Hunk rubs his chin thoughtfully. "This is good merchandise. What do you want for it?"

"I need an access point to Kapi'iera."

Hunk pales immediately. "No," he refuses, shaking his hands. "It's under Galra influence."

"I'll pay you whatever it takes in addition to this blaster."

"I don't need anything!" Hunk refuses. "Why do you even want to go?"

"There is someone I need to find and he is in Kapi'iera!"

Hunk opens and closes his fists in a gesture that is not familiar to Pidge but seems to convey fear. "This is crazy, you are crazy, I should have known from the beginning that someone hanging with Sleazy Mahk would be trouble."

Pidge slams her hands on the table. Metal rattles. Various parts cling against each other. Hunk gasps and catches what looks like a glass ball before it shatters on the floor.

"Listen, I've spent a year looking for my family and I haven't found anything until three quintents ago. This guy, Shirogane Takashi, was in the same prison as them until recently. So I'm going to find him, with or without you."

She shoves the Galra blaster back in her bag and turns around.

A hand catches her wrist. "I'll help you. I can bring you there and I can get you in. That's all I will do."

Pidge smiles at him. "That's all I need."

__

The store is empty when Pidge enters. The bell rings, as usual. The various shelves of the shop are covered in eclectic parts and machines, some for cooking, others for robots, others whose purpose is not discernible.

"Hunk!" She calls.

The sound of metal falling cues her in where Hunk might be. She hears a curse. She doesn't recognize the language, but curses are always uttered in the same way across the universe.

Hunk appears, covered in black grim, and looking rumpled. "Yes, Pidge. Sorry, I was working. Do you wanna see?"

"What is it?" She asks, following him into the back of the store.

She sidesteps a forgotten piece of machinery, almost trips on a metal tube, before looking up and finding a ship. She hadn't known there was so much space behind the cluttered entry of Hunk's store. The ship is a beautiful thing. Pauline's ship had been beautiful too, but seemed made up of various eclectic parts, like a patchwork of different mechanics.

This ship is a beauty of technology. Pidge trails her hand on the hood, feeling the smooth gray metal under her palm. On the side, there are blue neons lining the ship. "Does it belong to you?"

Hunk laughs. "It does. It's a funny story. It used to belong to my neighbor. Weird but very nice guy. I've never met a species like him before. Anyway, he said it belonged to his father, and he didn't know what to do with it. He gave it to me," he says, shrugging. "Though I don't know how to pilot, and the AI is giving me trouble."

"You can't pilot?" Hunk shakes his head. Pidge purses her lips. "That may be a problem. My piloting skills are mediocre at best. Do you know someone?"

"I mean, many pilots pass through my shop. I'll ask."

"That's good," Pidge says. She pulls a tablet from her bag. "In any case, I can take care of the AI."

Hunk watches her with surprise. "You can?"

Pidge grins. "You bet I can."

She steps inside the ship and marvels at the interior. The control board is fairly simple with easy buttons in a language she's never seen and a control set to steer the pod.

Two seats, a bit of space behind.

"It was probably a secondary pod from a much bigger ship," Hunk explains.

"What is it powered with?"

"Balmeran crystals. Though the last one is slightly modified. I've never seen a signature code like this," Hunk admits.

Pidge listens with one ear, while already linking her pad to the control panel. A series of signs and glyphs in an unknown language are projected in the air. "I've never seen this alphabet before."

Hunk rubs the back of his neck, grimacing. "Yes, this is the main reason I haven't been able to do much. Operating systems are not exactly my speciality anyway."

Pidge hums thoughtfully, tracking the movements of the signs in the air. "I may be able to decode it, but I'll need time. When are we leaving for Kapi'iera?"

"Well, we need a pilot first, and a call from the Galra. Kapik tech is fairly different from Galra tech, and from time to time they need a native Kapi'ierian engineer. We'll just have to wait."

"Let's issue an offer for a pilot. This is the Black Whole. We can find a pilot in every corner," Pidge says, with a dismissive wave of her hand.

"It's one thing to find a pilot," Hunk mutters. "It's another thing to find one willing to fly into Galra territory."

Pidge, nose in her pad, doesn't even hear it.

___

Two days have passed.  Lance's gaze travel from The All-Seer to the three Blades of Marmora standing opposite each other.

The All-Seer looks at them with her six eyes, shimmering technicolor gems that they are, and says: "We will take one of you."

That's who she is in the moment. The All-Seer. Not Kader, not the owner of the circus. She stands, regal, sure of her power, holding herself like an Empress.

Lance's stomach churns at her words, at the decisive inflection of her tone. "This is suicide," he protest, although he knows it is useless now. She has made her choice.

She stops him with one hand. "I do not enjoy the Galra reign. Staying passive is condoning their actions," she says. "I have heard your words, but I will not put my performers in jeopardy. I will take one." Her gaze settles on Keith, the one who doesn't look Galra. He looks like Lance, though his skin is without marks and his ears are round.

Jeelal takes a step forward. "No. No, I can't accept this! Take me instead."

"Let me do this!" Keith snarls.

"Keith, you aren't ready. You are still a child, you blade isn't even awakened yet!"

Keith glares at her, canting his chin, his jaw set at a defiant angles. He bares his teeth. "It will never awaken if you continue treating me like a kid."

One moment, Jeelal is throwing herself at Keith, the next, the tall Galra, the last one, is holding her by the arm. "Let me go, Antok," she spits.

He doesn't move one bit. His free hand draws signs in the air that Lance doesn't understand. The tension is so thick, he could almost cut it with a knife. He shifts, drums his fingers against his thigh. He doesn't like the silence.

"Why him?" Jeelal says. The set of her shoulders is almost defeated. "Antok and I are more experienced."

"You only need one inside to infiltrate. He will open the door for the others. He is the easiest to conceal. He doesn't look Galra, though he is half." Three pairs of eyes turn to the All-Seer. She stands, unflinching. "You are not the first half-Galra I see," she says, and that doesn't quite answer the unsaid question. It was impossible to see the Galra in Keith.

"Fine. But we will keep communication with him," Jeelal accepts.

Kader waves her hand. "That is your business. But if your communication ever endanger my ship, the Galra Empire will be the last thing you have to worry about," she warns.

Lance shudders at the thought. Kader smiles at them, all sharp glittering teeth. Jeelal huffs, crossing her arms, but tilts her head in acknowledgement.

__

Lance leads Keith to his room without a word. He glances at Keith and Antok who has followed them, and leaves without ceremony.

 _You don't look so good, Little Blade_ , he signs. His tail comes to curl around Keith's ankle, a familiar mark of affection.

Keith sits on the bed, throws his boots to the floor and draws his knees to his chest. "I don't like this Lance."

 _Why?_ Antok asks, making a clicking noise at the back of his throat. Antok doesn't have vocal cords and cannot produce words. It had been easier to learn Ohm, the signing language. It comes from a moon of Antok's planet, and most its inhabitants had learned it.

Galran was still the most widely used language in the universe. With the Galra Empire occupying most of the known universe, Galran had become a necessity. It was always safer to know what your jailers were saying.

"He doesn't understand what we are trying to do. Yes there are risks, but we are trying to help the universe. The Galra have reigned and tyrannized us for too long. The information Kiba holds are incredibly important. They could save so many."

Antok's tail gently tightens around his ankle, almost tickling his feet. _Is he against saving those beings?_

Keith purses his lips. Antok had always the voice of reason for Keith, even when he didn't like it.  "No, he's not against, he's just- He's worried for the circus," he mumbles. "The circus is his family."

_You can't blame him, then. He isn't part of the Blade of Marmora, he hasn't chosen to put his life at risks._

Keith draws his head between his shoulders. He knows Antok is right, but it doesn't mean he has to like it. "I just- He is so frustrating."

Antok makes a small huffing sound that Keith knows is a laugh. _He is not the first one you find someone frustrating. I think you find most people frustrating or annoying._

Keith punches him in the arm. "Shut up." A smile pulls at the corner of his lips. He already feels better. "Did you want something, by the way?"

Antok shakes his head. He stands up, untwists his tails from Keith's ankle. _No. I just thought you may want to talk._

Keith looks at him for a moment. "Please tell Ulaz and Thace that I am fine. Jeelal wouldn't let me die."

Antok bends his head, a yes. _Be careful, Little Blade._

 _I will_ , he signs back, but he thinks Antok doesn't believe him.

__

"What can you do?" Bolle asks. Their accent is thick, dripping over the words.

Bolle is an enormous alien, with two pairs of eyes on what serves them as a torso, a face composed of two big pointy ears, and a nose like a tentacle. Their skin is a shimmering gray, covered with scales, like a fish.

Keith cants his chin up. "I can fight."

"We are a circus. Not an army. I am glad you can play with your little knife." Bolle makes a clicking sound at the back of their throat. Keith doesn't need to speak whatever their native language is to know it's a mocking noise.

Lance snorts from the stand. He is sitting lazily, his arms on the back of his seat. Keith glares at him. Lance sends him a wink, and Keith resits sending his sword through his throat.

It would be satisfying, yes, but incredibly bad for the Blades of Marmora's plan.

He crosses his arms. "I can perform acrobatics, I suppose. I have good balance and reflexes."

Bolle pulls at their trump. "I do not know what Kader was thinking when she hired you," they complain. "It is too late to add you to the show but... Xhica could use an assistant. You will be stagehand."

"Stagehand?" Keith asks, unfamiliar with the name.

"Yes. You will work backstage, help run the show from behind. You are small, it will be easy for you."

"I am not small," he mutters. He can hear snickering in the back. He turns around and glares at Lance. "What does he have to be here?" He asks to Bolle.

"He doesn't," Bolle says. "Lance! Bring this one to Xhica!"

Lance whines. "Do I have to?"

"Yes."

Lance makes another noise of annoyance, but comes down to the track. He doesn't wait for Keith, already walking toward the exit.

Keith rolls his eyes and chases after him.

"I am not happy about this," Lance grumbles, waving his hand toward Keith and around.

"I gathered, yes," Keith says, trying, and failing, to keep sarcasm out of his tone. Lance glares at him. His dark blue eyes are narrowed, his brows pulled together.

"Kader accepted you, so I won't kill you right away." Keith snorts. Lance swirls around, poking Keith's chest with his finger. "You think I couldn't?"

"No, I don't think you could," Keith says, crossing his arms.

"I'll take you on. After lights out. Join me in the showroom, I'm gonna kick your ass."

Keith grins, all sharp teeth. Lance seems uncertain for a moment, but maintains his composure. "You are on," Keith accepts the challenge.

__

The rest of Keith's day is tiring. He learns a lot, gets pushed around and reminded several times that he is new.

Xhica is a soft spoken alien with pink skin and many limbs that double as legs and arms when needed, who gets easily distracted in the middle of an explanation. Keith, who doesn't have much patience, has to bring him back to the topic at hand several times.

"How much experience do you have?" Xhica asks, while showing him the button to bring the silk ribbons down.

"Approximately none."

Xhica makes a chirping sound that may be a laugh. "You are honest, at least. I will give you that." He looks Keith up and down. "You look young and athletic. I'm tired of having to run everywhere to hang all the stage props and lightning. It shouldn't be too hard to learn in a couple of weeks."

At dinner, he sits alone at a table. The food is decent, though even if it had been terrible he wouldn't have complained. An enormous rocky looking alien takes a seat at his table. "You the new stagehand?" He asks gruffly.

"Yeah," Keith answers without looking up. The alien's hand are big and gray.

"Kader barely lets anyone new in," the alien says. "What are you? What makes you special?"

Keith frowns and finally raises his head. Two big yellow eyes are staring suspiciously at him. "I'm nothing special."

"Chulk, leave him alone," Lance's voice interrupts them. "Kader chose him for a reason. The circus belongs to her, we are not here to question her decisions."

The alien grabs his fork and eats it as an intimidation tactic. The metal makes a cracking sound under his teeth, and Keith raises an impressed eyebrow despite himself.

"Stop your dramatics," Lance says, with a sigh. "No one is as dramatic as me here."

Chulk laughs. "You are right," he says, good-heartedly and hits the table with the palm of his hand. "Sorry about that. Keith, right? Welcome to the Star's Fortune."

"Thank you," Keith says, a bit disoriented by the swift mood change of the alien.

Lance walks behind him. "I won't save your ass again," he whispers.

"I didn't ask for your help," Keith shoots back.

Lance rolls his eyes. "Fine, I'll leave you to die under Chulk's fists next time. It'll take care of my problems for me." He waves a hand and starts walking away. "See you tonight."

___

At first, he believes the showroom is empty. It is an odd sight, and it bothers him for a moment. No one is sitting in the bleachers around the track, and it is strange for a room usually filled with various creatures and life.

He takes a step forward, and realizes that no, it isn't empty. Surrounded by darkness, Lance is hanging from the ceiling, tangled in black ribbons, and for the space of a second, it looks like he's flying.

He's wearing shorts, baring the warm brown skin of his legs, showing the silver markings on his knees and ankles.

He climbs up the ribbons, and Keith notices the way the muscles of his back and arms shift under the fabric of his shirt.

" _Listeners, thank you for joining again,_ " a female voice says, in Lik. Her accent is lilting and gentle, almost singing. " _And welcome to new listeners._ "

Keith jumps, reaching for his sword. He looks around, but Lance and Keith are still the only one in the room. The voice comes from a Communicator, laying on the floor.

Lance is sitting in the ribbons now, in what looks like a comfortable position. His head is tilted toward the Comm, but his eyes are strained on Keith. "Ready to get your ass kicked?" He asks, his eyes cold, the curve of his mouth mocking.

The Comm still echoes in the room. " _Have you ever heard of Boesner, a beautiful purple planet in the Sint galaxy? I wouldn't recommend it for holidays._ "

Keith frowns. The voice seems to contradict itself. He crosses his arms. "What are you listening to?" He says, instead of answering.

Lance leans back, and Keith fears he will fall. But Lance is a professional, and a show off. He slides a couple of meters down, bringing him close to the floor. He falls backward, ends up hanging by his feet. He reaches down, his hands on the ground, his back curved, and disentangles his legs. He stands up. "Random radio. Why does it matter?"

" _Here is a song from Boesner to sate your wandering souls,_ " the voice continues, followed by what sounds like wind bells clinging against each other. It fits the mood of the lazy late hours.

"It doesn't," Keith says, but doesn't miss the way Lance's body is angled toward the Comm. It is more important to Lance than he lets on. "What are the rules?"

"No weapons allowed," Lance says, pointedly staring at Keith's knife still on his hip.

Keith take it off and lays it on the bleachers, next to the Comm. He takes off his jacket. He stretches his arms and rolls his neck. "Ready?"

Lance grins. "Ready."

Keith lunges at him. Lance drops to the floor. He kicks Keith's legs from under him. Keith loses his balance. He somersaults and rolls back to his feet.

Lance leers at him. "Not as easy as you'd thought, isn't it?"

"Doesn't matter. I'll still destroy you," Keith says and bares his teeth.

They circle each other. Keith feints a punch. He kicks high at the last moment. Lance blocks his leg with his forearm. He hisses loudly. He jumps backward, startling Keith, and kicks Keith in the chin with a back flip.

Keith stumbles back a few steps.  He spits blood on the ground. The bitter taste of iron is strong on his tongue.

Lance throws a punch at him. Keith dodges. He grabs his wrist, pulls him and drives his  knee in his stomach. Lance's noise of pain is breathless. He wheezes, both hands on his belly.

"Fine," a cough, "you win."

"I've been trained to fight my entire life," Keith says. "It isn't a surprise. You did better than I expected."

Lance lays on the floor, arms and legs sprawled like one of those weird star-like creatures of Planet Bluck. (The planet was made at 98% of water, and most of its intelligent species were underwater creatures. Water stars were not intelligent creatures though.)

"That's kind of sad, you know?"

Keith sits next to him, his legs curled under himself. "What?"

"You've always been in this Blade thing?"

"Blade of Marmora," Keith corrects. "And yes. They raised me."

Behind them, clinging noises are still coming from the Comm. Lance hums. "It explains a lot." He throws a sideway glance to Keith.

Keith frowns at him. "I don't see how."

"You are kind of..." He trails off, waves a hand in the air. "Always tense?"

"I am not!"

Lance laughs. It's short and barely there, but he does nonetheless. Keith watches him with wide eyes. "You are. But it's okay, I get it now."

Keith shakes his head. He is starting to get used to Lance's antics. "I'm sorry, you know," he says, twisting his fingers together. "For putting the Star's Fortune- Your family - at risks."

Lance sighs. "I'm not going to say it's fine because it- it isn't but. I understand why you- Why we have to do it." He sits up and pulls at the edge of his shorts. "The Galra... they forced us out of our home. They invaded our home. I used to live in an adoptive home. We had to run away."

"Where is your family now?"

Lance shrugs and his expression makes the hollow of his face look darker, sharper. "Don't know. They left for the Dodging Nebula. I stayed to protect them. That's why I'm a pet of the Galra Empire now."

Keith's hands curl into fists. "I will do everything in my power to destroy them."

"Yes, I got that." Lance stands up. "That's why I tolerate your presence on this ship. I despise the Galra as much as you do."

He gathers his things, claps his Comm to his pants and starts walking away. "I still hate you, though."

Keith smiles. "I can live with that."

" _We are close to the end of today's show. I will put one last song before taking my leave,_ " the voice of the radio host carries through the hall, until it is but a distorted whisper.

__

Hunk stares at the application in front of his eyes. The tablet clearly reads "Experienced Pilot" but the alien standing in front of him does not inspire confidence.

Sitting on a chair, smiling, with green teeth and blinking two purple eyes, is the so-called Junt Seven points, because he had apparently destroyed seven Galra ships with one shot.

It may have been slightly exaggerated.

"So... Junt? What previous experience do you have?"

Junt grins bigger, which doesn't make him more welcoming. "Haven't you heard of me?"

"I have," Hunk says pleasantly. "I'm not sure of how much is true."

"Everything."

Hunk looks at the screen of his datapad. "That's... impressive. We'll be in touch."

He closes the door after Junt.

He jots down a few notes on the latest pilot shaking his head. It's the tenth candidate he's interviewed and he can't find any who looks remotely like what they are looking for.

He leaves the datapad on the table and goes to the back. He finds Pidge in front of three screens. Numbers and letters and symbols he doesn't recognize are scrolling down. Her eyes are red, and Hunk may not know what species Pidge is, but he can recognize when someone needs sleep.

"Pidge," he says.

She startles, almost knocks the datapad on her lap. "Oh, it's you."

He stands behind her, and massages her shoulders. She makes a small noise of contentment under her breath. "You should take a break. You've been working on it for hours. It can wait a few more ticks."

"I'm almost there, though," she grumbles.

Hunk hums, digging his thumbs harder in her back. She groans, her head falling forward against her chest. "Only for a bit. Just to eat something and get a drink. Maybe clean up."

"Are you saying I smell?"

"Well, I didn't say it."

Pidge makes a small laugh. Hunk smiles at the sound. "Fine, a small break," she says. "Just because your cooking skills are exceptional."

"Glad I could convince you with food," Hunk says, grinning.

She rolls her eyes, but her lips are twisted with amusement.

She follows him to the kitchen. She sits at the table while Hunk prepares her one of his secret concoction. It helps sleep, but he isn't going to tell her that. He's not even sure it will on work on her. As he's said before, Pidge's species is a mystery to him.

She snakes her hands around the cup.

"I haven't found a pilot yet," he says, laying two bowls with cakes on the table. Pidge picks up her spork and swallows a bite.

"Oh, that's good," she says, her mouth full. "Is it that hard?"

He shakes his head. "Most of them are untrustworthy, and even the ones who seem serious aren't very keen on going to a Galra occupied planet. Especially one cited in the top ten of the universe for prison size."

Pidge tilts her head to the side. "Understandable," she concedes.

They stay silent for a bit, lost in their thought. It's pleasant. Hunk didn't think he'd find a friend in Pidge at first. She'd seem so fierce and determined, but mostly, she's seem closed off.

Hunk is good at making people feel comfortable, though. And her mind is quite amazing. She's always thinking, sometimes stopping in the middle of eating to scribble ideas down. There is so much creativity in such a small body, Hunk is amazed with this tiny creature more often than not.

"I've got an idea," she says, breaking the silence. Her face isn't the one he's gotten accustomed to, though. It isn't the bright eyed a little crazed gaze she gets when she's made a discovery. There's a crease between her eyes, and her mouth is twisted.

"I feel like I won't like it."

She tilts her face, and Hunk is now sure, he won't like it. "There's someone," she says. "We both know him."

"No," he refuses instantly. "He's a crook and a liar and an altogether complete disaster. He'd sell you out to the Galra Empire for anything. You and me both."

"It's the only solution we have right now! Are you even on the Galra Black list?"

"I am not, and I would like it to stay that way. I have worked hard to stay under their radar."

"He's a good pilot, and he won't mind that the place is crawling with Galra soldiers. I just need someone to pilot us there. You get the clearance for the planet. After that, you go back to your life and forget about me."

Hunk throws his hands in the air, exasperated. "I can't just do that!" He says. "You're my friend now. Anyone who likes my cooking is my friend. Pidge, I can't just forget about you and leave you on the planet. I'm bringing you there, and you're coming back with me."

"I don't–"

"Stop. I can accept Sleazy Mahk under one condition. You let me bring you back."

Pidge looks conflicted for a moment. "Fine," she accepts. "You can bring me back."

Hunk breathes a sigh of relief.

__

"So. you've finally realized I am the pilot you need."

It's the first thing Sleazy Mahk says when he enters the shop, and Hunk is already regretting his decision to hire him.

"Shut up and come take a look," Pidge says, which echoes relatively well Hunk's sentiment.

Mahk walks over to Pidge and follows her to the back. He crosses his arms and stares at the ship with thoughtful yellow eyes. "Never seen a thing quite like this," he admits.

He walks around it, taking in its sleek appearance. He touches some part, inspects closer some others. He doesn't say anything, and his face is unreadable. Hunk wants to shake him until he spills out everything that he is thinking.

Hunk's never liked the guy anyway.

Mahk hops in the pilot seat. He stares at the dashboard for a moment. He finds the power button without help. The ship turns on, making it's usual humming sound.

Hunk will be honest. The craft is a beauty of technology. Nothing is superfluous, every part of the ship is as simple as it could be made, making it easy to read and easy to understand. Hunk doesn't know many engineers capable of this type of work and he's quite certain it's old technology.

"I can't read anything," Mahk says.

Pidge offers him the datapad. "I've managed to translate some of the inscriptions, but I can't be sure without trying."

Mahk takes a look at the symbol. He stares at the screen for a moment, before turning back to the ship's dashboard.

He grabs the wheel and grins. The ship's thrusters make a hard noise, sending Hunk's heart in shambles, before raising a few centimeters off the ground.

"What are you doing!?" Pidge shouts.

"I got it, it's simple as hell to pilot!" He says, and puts the ship back down on the ground.

Hunk has half a mind to drag him out and throw him on the street to never see again. He doesn't though, because he made a promise to Pidge.

"So you could get us to Kapi'iera?" Pidge asks.

Mahk leans back in his seat, and shows off his pointy black teeth. "Sure I can. For the right price obviously," he says. "I may have trouble in case of emergency because I can't read a single word of this gibberish, but... It shouldn't problem getting you there."

"That's all we ask," Pidge says.

"I mean, we'd like not to die, so it'd be nice if we could at least try to figure out some of the things on the screen before we leave," Hunk interjects. "But if Pidge is okay with you, I defer to her."

"Great!" Sleazy Mahk exclaims. "I'm excited to work with you, then."

__

Time passes quickly in the circus. Keith gets used to his job pretty quickly.

Although he technically has the official job of a stagehand, as he is sometimes superfluous, he quickly becomes sort of a handyman in the circus. He cleans, he helps cook, he sometimes helps artists try their costume on. The costumiers have tried to rope him into helping for some of the costumes, but one look at their haggard faces and he almost ran away. He'd politely declined saying that he had no idea how to help and it would only make things worse.

Lance had quietly snickered behind his hand the entire scene.

Speaking of Lance. Their relationship has been getting steadily better in the past week. After the first night, they've gotten used to meeting in the showroom to spar or just talk. Lance is usually the one talking. But tonight is different.

The Comm is back again. Lance is sitting curled with it on his knees.

"Hey," Keith says, trying not to startle Lance. They've been known to start a fight for less than that.

Lance still jumps and almost makes the Comm fall. He frowns at Keith. He's dressed casually tonight, in a top so big it swallows him and the pants he wears for practice, some sort of black fabric that seems painted on his legs. "Careful! You almost made me drop the Comm," he complains.

"Sorry," Keith says, and comes sit next to him. "What's so important about it anyway?"

Lance looks unsure about whether he should answer or not. He frowns, looking at his lap. "It isn't the Comm that's important," he says, "it's the show."

Keith tilts his head. He tries to remember what the show had been about the last he heard about it, but he only remembers vague music from some lost planet at the edge of the universe. "What is the show about?" He asks anyway. He doesn't want to break the fragile peace between them.

Lance looks thoughtful for a moment. He's always calmer at the end of the day, like the restless energy inside of him has been tamed. "It's... an illegal radio show. The host, they broadcast some of the Galra positions around the Universe."

Keith freezes. "What? That's not possible."

Lance sends him a glare. Lance's eyes are unnaturally blue in the low light. Keith, even with night vision, a courtesy from his Galra half, shouldn't be able to see their blueness. They almost seem to produce their own light. "It is. It's always been true. Everything they've said until now, every time has been true."

Keith chooses his next words carefully. "How did you... how did you check?"

"Kader," Lance says. "She always try to get the circus to the newly conquered planets. It's usually... devastated just after the war. We smuggle food, health kits, maybe some small crystals to power a couple of engines. All of the planets the Galra conquered, the show announced them in advance. I don't know how they got the information, but it's the truth."

Keith knows there are moles inside the Galra Empire. He knows one of them. He'd always assumed all the moles were part of the Blade of Marmora. He's quite certain none of them would work with a strange and mysterious radio show.

"So your circus uses it to– what? Stage a rescue mission or something?"

"We aren't all fighters and soldiers," Lance says, with cold eyes. "You know what we are. Mascots for the Empire. We are just another way to keep the masses quiet. Keep them entertained and they won't try to rebel."

Keith sighs and rubs the bridge of his nose. "I'm sorry, that came out wrong. I didn't mean to offend you," he apologizes. "I'm not very good with words."

Lance laughs bitterly. "Yeah, that's an understatement."

They fall silent. Music starts coming from the Comm. It's odd. It reminds Keith of these strange flowers he's seen once. Enormous things who would only open when there was no light. They made these sounds, always only one note, but it had seemed to come from the earth, or from underwater. All of them in unison, it was a beautiful melody.

" _Whether you are new or a regular, welcome,_ " the host says in Lik.

It's funny, he thinks. Before joining the circus, he hadn't heard Lik in ages. The Blade uses Galran. Strangely enough, communication in the same language as your enemy are less likely to be considered a threat.

Lik is... Lik is the language of secrets and stories, he'd always thought. Old legends are told in Lik. They are hard to translate, because words are heavy. In Lik, words have many meaning and implications. Even with the equivalent word in another language, there wasn't this weight, this preciseness, that Lik has.

Lik is the language of secrets and stories because each word in Lik has its own story and its own secrets.

" _The Sint Galaxy has been rather... occupied these days_ ," the host says. Their accent is impossible to place. " _A storm has been forming over Ezst for some time now. I'd take the rest of my vacation days and be lazy somewhere else if I were you._ "

Keith's heart beats in his chest. Boesner, Ezst, the Blades knew the Galra Empire had their sight on them. They'd known the Galra were going to invade them.

"I believe you," he says.

Lance looks at him from the corner of his eyes. "What changed your mind?"

Keith cannot tell him. He trusts Lance to a certain extent, but not with classified Blade information. He shakes his head. Lance purses his lips, but doesn't say anything.

__

The next show comes a week later.

Keith is used to running around. The Blade of Marmora is always ready to leave, always on the edge of jumping into space to escape being caught.

It has never been quite like this.

Artists are looking for their gear in increasingly stranger places. There seems to always be something missing, an accessory, a shoe, some random piece of clothing. Costumiers are chasing after them with last minute alteration, brandishing dangerous sharp objects and unconscious of who they could injure with them.

The worst may be backstage. Every tick something seems to have fallen apart. It'd been running fine all week when they'd done the repetition, but suddenly, everything is going wrong. A rope has gone missing or is frayed. A gear has fallen out of sync with the other and the linked stage props cannot be put down anymore. A chandelier almost fell on top of the artists. (Though this one had been entirely their fault. Turns out climbing on it to replace some the glowing crystals had not been their best idea.)

He's barely seen Lance. He hates to admit it, but he misses their nigh meeting. Keith hadn't had many chance to talk at the Blades headquarters. He'd always been sort of an outsider. Too young, too different looking and making friends hadn't been his priority.

They steal a couple of minutes together before the beginning of the show.

Lance is already dressed in his costume. It's the first time Keith has the opportunity to see it up close and take the time to admire it.

It's a beautiful thing of glittering dark blues gems on blue silk fabric. It brings out Lance's eyes, and Keith catches himself thinking he is beautiful.

He pushes the thought out of his mind.

"Ready?" He asks.

Lance is paler than usual. His brown skin has a gray tint that betrays his nervousness. "No. I feel like I'm gonna puke my heart any time now," he says.

Keith lays a hand on his arm. "You'll be fine. You know what you have to do, and  you've done it before. You'll amaze everyone tonight, as always."

Lance sends him a look, something appraising and curious. Keith doesn't know to take it. "Yeah, you're right." He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath and stands up straight. "Thank you, Keith." His smile is soft and thankful, like a secret for his eyes only.

Keith's heart misses a beat.

"It's nothing," he says, to cover up his embarrassment. "I'm um... I'm gonna go, I have background stuff to take care of."

Lance laughs. Keith realizes it's the first time he's been the cause of it. "Yeah, go do your background stuff," he says. "If you drop me, I'll kill you. I know you're the one responsible for my ribbons."

Keith rolls his eyes. "I won't drop you, idiot," he promises and starts walking away.

"I resent that!" Lance shouts after him.

"Go prepare yourself, starboy!" He shouts back, a grin on his face.

__

"So, how did I do?" Lance grins.

His hair is curling around the nape of his neck. Sweat is beading on his forehead. His smile is bright, his eyes twinkle. The silver paint on his face and back is starting to fade, but glitter seems to be covering every inch of his bared skin.

"Go change. The costumiers are going to kill you if they see you wandering around in your costume."

Lance groans, draping himself over one of the backstage crates. It is full of various props and ropes and other possibly useful tools. Keith winces. The corners of the box cannot be good for the flimsy material of Lance's costume.

"Carry me, I'm too tired to even move."

Keith continues to sweep the floor where confetti are making their way into all the nooks and crannies of the room. "I still have work."

Lance whines and sprawls himself more, his long limbs everywhere. "You're no fun," he grumbles.

Keith rolls his eyes. "I'm just not done with work. If you want me to compliment you on your performance, you can just wait tonight."

Lance tilts his head, watching him with curious eyes. "Tonight?"

Keith feels his cheeks hit up. He'd just assumed they would resume their nightly meeting now that the show was done, but maybe Lance didn't have the same idea?

"I thought we would meet in the showroom, as usual," Keith admits, under his breath.

Lance stands up. Keith doesn't meet his gaze. "Mmh, the showroom is probably going to be cluttered," Lance muses. "You should come to my room."

Keith turns to look at him. "Really?"

"Yours is tiny," Lance says, as an explanation, shrugging.

Keith has to concede him the point. His room is indeed rather small. It makes sense, though. Keith isn't an important artist of the circus.

"I'll see you tonight then."

Lance gives him a little wave and starts making his way toward the costumiers to take care of his suit. Keith hopes quietly he didn't rip anything or Lance will get chewed out, or maybe just killed horrifyingly.  The probability is equal.

__

Lance curls up tighter into a ball and groans. Keith still isn't there, even though he'd specifically told him to come to his room.

He doesn't like to get stood up. Also, Keith is a surprisingly good listener. He isn't a big talker, but he always pays attention when Lance fills the need to speak. Lance has missed their nightly conversation the past week.

With a frustrated sigh, he stands up. Fine, if Keith won't come to him, he will come to Keith. He grabs his datapad and puts on a warmer sweater before heading outside.

It is late enough in the night for the ship to be empty.

Lance makes his way through the corridors without trouble. He's been here for the past two years, and knows the ship by heart. The Star's Fortune is an old spacecraft with a lot of unused rooms filled with strange and incomprehensible things. Lance is always delighted when he can find these strange objects.

There is light from under Keith's door. The door doesn't open automatically. Lance rolls his eyes and bangs on the door.

"Open the damn door, Keith!"

The sound of something falling and a groan reach him from outside. Lance snorts.

The door slides open and Keith appears. He looks ruffled and stressed. Lance frowns. "We were supposed to meet?"

Keith blinks. His purple eyes are red and his hair looks like he ran his hands through them and pulled at his strands. "I– Shit, sorry, I didn't mean to just... Sorry," he apologizes, wincing.

Lance can't even be mad at him when he looks that bad. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," Keith says, even though it's a complete lie. Lance has spent enough time in close quarter with the guy to know when he is lying. (The fact that he is absolutely awful at it is just an added bonus.) "Can we... not do it tonight? I'm tired, I think I'm just going to turn in."

"Yeah right," Lance says, and shoulders his way inside Keith's room.

His breath catches when he sees the interior. One wall displays a map of a building he doesn't recognize. All around are annotations, comments and precisions are written.

"Keith, what is this?" He asks, without taking his eyes off the it.

"It's– I can't... I can't talk about it."

Lance turns around. He pushes Keith against the wall, who, surprised, lets himself be manhandled. "Don't give me this bullshit. Do you think I'm stupid?"

Keith's purple eyes are cold when they look at Lance. He cants his chin up. "It doesn't matter to you. You aren't part of the Blades."

Lance lets him go with a snarl. "I can't believe we are back there after everything! After all these weeks of sharing. You aren't alone Keith. Your actions aren't only reflected on you and the Blades. We need to know! Kader needs to know."

Keith glares at him for a moment. He slides against the wall to sit in a ball on the floor. "Sorry, I'm not used to... I don't know. Being part of a team, I guess?"

Lance joins him on the floor. "That's fine. I understand. But you need to share this information, Keith. I understand that the Blades are this super secret organization, but we need to know. We need to protect ourselves."

Keith pulls his legs to his chest. "Yes, I'll go see Kader tomorrow."

"I'll come with you. She's less intimidating when you aren't alone."

Keith lets out a little laugh. Lance is glad he can make Keith relax enough to laugh. "She is very intimidating that's true."

Lance scoots a little to press their shoulders together. Keith slumps against him. His body is a warm weight against Lance's side. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Keith shakes his head. "No, not really."

His hair tickles Lance's nose. He raises a hand to flatten it, and Keith makes a low sound at the back of his throat.

"I can leave and let you go to sleep," Lance suggest, though he doesn't feel like moving. He is making efforts to be more considerate.

"No, no, you can stay," Keith says. "You can tell me about the Likja."

"The Likja?" Lance asks, confused. "Why?"

"You talk about them in the show. I don't know anything about it. Tell me," he demands.

Lance leans back into a more comfortable position, his head resting against the wall. "Well, they say they were made from the same material the first stars were made off. It's even possible they are as old as the first galaxy. Apparently, they can live crazy long."

Keith makes a huffing noise. It takes Lance a second to realize it must be a laugh.

"We don't know what they look like. Some say they are giant, some say they are minuscule. The most common idea is that they can change their appearance easily. Some scientists actually studied the legends and said it was probable they could bend light itself. Made their appearance seems different even though their body hasn't changed."

"Some aliens see differently from us though. With heat or sound for example."

Lance almost shrugs, but stops himself at the last second. Keith seems comfortable against his shoulder, and he doesn't want to disturb him. "I'm not the expert. Go ask them."

"Yeah, sorry. Go on."

"So, as I was saying, we aren't sure of their original appearance. In the legends though, there's a recurring theme. They say Likja have translucent skin and stardust in their veins."

"Seems a bit farfetched."

"It's a myth, it can be farfetched."

"Did they do anything special?"

"Some believe they've created Time itself."

"What do they do now, if they are so old? Are they still alive?"

Lance hums. "They are. They like to meddle in the universe's affairs, but in the background. Like a minor character in a story. Some stories attribute miracles and strange coincidences or strokes of luck to them."

Keith slumps a bit more on him, his head practically resting on his shoulder now. "This is stupid."

"Some people like to believe. I don't think it hurts anyone. It's only a legend. It's reassuring to think there's maybe someone out there to watch over you, maybe give you a little help when you need it."

Keith stays silent for a moment. "Do you believe?" He asks quietly.

"Yeah," Lance says. "There's something comforting about the thought that there are incredibly old beings who would send a little hope my way."

Keith falls silent after that. His breathing is slow and regular. Lance even thinks he's fallen asleep. "My butt is numb," Keith says, proving that he isn't.

Lance snorts. "The floor isn't the most comfortable place."

Keith grumbles something under his breath. Lance doesn't understand. He isn't even sure it was Galra, or even Lik.

Keith stands up. He stretches. Lance watches the way the fabric of his night clothes bunch around his shoulders and the thickness of his thighs.

"Sorry to keep you up so long," he says. He looks all sleepy and rumpled. "You must be tired after the show."

Lance pulls himself up using the wall. He grimaces at the way his legs feel sore. "It's fine. I'm glad I came over."

Keith sends him a grateful glance. "Yeah, it was... It was good."

Lance ruffles his hair and Keith swats at his hand, wrinkling his nose. "Go to sleep, you're falling asleep on your feet."

"The bags under your eyes are bigger than my pillow," Keith shoots back.

Lance gasps dramatically. "Rude! It's your fault I'm missing my beauty sleep."

Keith snickers and pushes him out of his room. "Go back to your bed, Lance," he says.

Lance turns around. Keith is standing in the doorway, almost like he's waiting for something. Lance doesn't feel ready.

He catches Keith's hand and squeezes it once. "Tomorrow, we'll go see Kader."

Keith nods. "Yes. Goodnight, Lance."

___

Hunk comes running in the workshop, waving his datapad around. He barely avoids tripping over some random tools laying around. It's good he didn't, because she wouldn't have been able to catch him.

"What's gotten you in such a good mood?" She asks, watching her screen from the corner of her eyes. It's still running possible translations and algorithms to read the mysterious language of the ship.

"We got it!"

She squints at him. "We've got what?"

Hunk grins at her. "The authorization to land on Kapi'iera. They need a few experienced engineers, and they accepted me! And you, by extension."

Pidge throws herself at him. Hunk catches her with two arms and twirls her around. She laughs. Hunk puts her back on the floor and ruffles her hair.

"When do we leave?" She asks.

"As soon as we can."

As soon as they can means gathering all her belongings around Hunk's shop. She'd been living for the past week, because Hunk was a sweetheart and it made things easier. She hasn't realized how much she'd made Hunk's place her home too. Her various datapads and cables are everywhere, and she has to go around the shop several times to make sure she hasn't forgotten anything.

When she is finally done, Sleazy Mahk is leaning against the wall, watching her lazily. "You're ready?" He asks.

She gives him a curt nod. She pulls out a small data key from her pocket. "That should be enough proof."

Mahk twirls the key between his fingers. "Still sure you want to go through it?"

"Yes, I'm sure."

Hunk enters the room, his four arms around one huge bag. "Are you ready to go?" He asks, with a smile.

Pidge smiles back. "Yes, let's go."

__

Kader is as elegant as always, even in the early hours of the morning. Lance, on the other hand, feels like he's been used as rug for a back of huge aliens.

Keith doesn't look much better. He has dark shadows under his eyes and his fingers have been periodically gripping his thigh, where Lance knows a small blade is concealed.

"Lance, Keith," she says. "Please, come in."

Her white hair is braided today. Her six eyes seem to be peering through them. Lance may have been on this ship for a while now, but Kader has a presence that would make even the most self-confident creature feel uncomfortable.

Keith gives her his datapad, the blueprints of Canox, Kapi'iera's prison, on the screen. "Here are the plans."

She nods and takes it. With a wave of one hand, she tells them to sit down.

She doesn't speak for a while. Keith's hands reflexively open and close in a nervous manner. Lance lays his own hand on his to calm him down.

"That's a two men job," Kader says, eventually.

Her face betrays nothing of her thoughts. She'd always been guarded with her emotions and feelings.

"Yes," Keith confirms. "One of the Blades will join me. We haven't decided who yet."

"How will they get on the planet?"

Keith's mouth twists. "We aren't sure. We'll figure it out."

Kader tilts her head. Some strands of her hair fall on the desk, like light beams. "This doesn't sound very promising," she points out.

"I'll go," Lance blurts out. Both Keith and Kader stare at him, and for a split second, he almost want to take it back, but... But, he realizes, he will do it. He needs to do this. "I will be the second person in this job."

Kader's gaze is appraising, and maybe, though he could be imagining it, a bit proud.

"You can't!" Keith protests. "This is dangerous, you aren't trained and you are not even part of the Blades!"

Lance takes the datapad. "I have been training with you since you came here. I can handle myself in a fight, I'm an excellent shot, and this job requires climbing. No one is better suited than me for climbing."

Keith stands up. "I refuse. I can't just– I can't just let you throw away your life for this mission. If you come with me, you can't go back to the circus."

"I am aware," Lance says. He's known. The moment he'd said it, it has dawned on him. If he goes, this is the end of life as he's known it.

"Keith, please, sit back down. I have something important to contribute," Kader says. It isn't an order, but her voice is authoritative enough that Keith doesn't even contest it.

"I will dismantle the Star's Fortune," she reveals.

Lance's heart stops beating. His stomach twists. "I'm sorry?"

Kader sighs. Gently, she takes one of Lance's hands. Her fingers are longer than his, a bit strange with their four knuckles. "I've wanted to do it for some time. I wasn't... I wasn't quite sure how to do it. I couldn't just abandon you. All of you. You are my responsibility."

"You never said," Lance breathes. His world is falling apart in front of his eyes, and he cannot do anything about it.

She squeezes his hand. "I wanted to, but... I didn't want to alarm you if it didn't come to an end. The Blades gave a gateway though. If I know all of you can disappear from the Empire's eye, I am confident you can fend for yourself."

"But, why?"

She leans back in her chair, a sad smile on her face. "When I created the Star's Fortune, I wanted to bring joy and magic into the lives of oppressed populations. We live in hard times, and a small break from it was my goal. We are only puppets of the Galra Empire. It's only a matter of time until they even choose our own topics for the show. I want freedom."

"What will you do once the circus is gone?" Keith asks. Lance is grateful for the question. He isn't even sure he could make his throat works.

"Join the rebellion, I think, I am not sure," she says, and for the first time since Lance has known her, she doesn't look composed. She looks uncertain, apologetic and maybe slightly fearful. "There are many possibilities."

She looks at him. She brushes the hair from his face. Her touch is softer than it's ever been. "I'm sorry for not saying anything. Go be a hero, Lance. You can be so much."

"I don't know what to do without the circus," he admits.

With her thumb, she swipes away the tears on his cheek. He hasn't even realized he was crying. "You'll find something, Lance. I believe in you."

He nods because he doesn't know what else to do.

He isn't quite sure how he goes back to his room. The trip to his bed feels like a hazy dream. He feels drained of all energy. At some point, Keith talks to him. His purple eyes are full are concerned, and he's holding Lance's hand. He can't make out the words.

"It will be okay," Keith's voice says. It's a gentle thing, softer than Keith's usual tone. He squeezes Keith's hand, afraid he will leave. He can't be alone now. The idea of facing his fear by himself is overwhelming and maybe scarier than the future itself.

Keith doesn't leave. He stays long enough for Lance to feel his eyelids dropping. He falls asleep with tears drying on his cheeks.

__

Soldiers come into their cell. Shiro stands up. "Take me, I want to fight!"

The Galra shoves him back on the ground. "Shut up, Number 61. It isn't your turn," he snarls. He turns to Kiba, who is curled on the floor, watching them with dark yellow eyes. "You, 256, stand up. You have a date with the rink."

The other soldier Galra sneers. "You should take the other. Make him watch."

"Good idea."

He snaps handcuffs around both their hands. That done, they point their blasters at him and Kiba. They stand up.

"You know the way."

Shiro thinks the worst part isn't the rink itself. It's the cheering, the screams, the noises. The proof of hundred of creatures enjoying the gore spectacle.

He watches as Kiba is thrown on the earth. It must have been clear once, but the blood of dying prisoners and victims has darkened it to an uneven brown.

They take her handcuffs off.

"Traitor! Traitor!" He hears all around him, and the word fills the tower from top to bottom, like a death sentence.

When they release the beast, Shiro's blood freezes in his veins. It is enormous, with razor sharp claws and a mouth full of teeth. Its furr drips with a dark oily liquid.

Kiba stands up straight. She is a big Galra, but against the beast, with a tiny sword, she looks like an insect with a toothpick.

The beast charges. She rolls under it and slashes its belly. The beast makes an irritated noise. It sweeps her away with a flick her tail.

She slams the wall. Her mouth hangs open. She has trouble breathing.

With difficulty, she stands up. She has to keep a hand on the wall to stay upright. The beast stares at her, black mangled teeth on display. She doesn't move.

It runs at her. She stays still. Its mouth opens ready to eat her. She throws herself on the side. The beast hits the wall at full speed with a loud noise.

The crowd falls silent for a moment before picking back up.

Limping, Kiba picks her sword from the floor. She slowly makes her way to where the beast is sprawled, unmoving. She is close, too close.

The beast throws her claws at her and makes a deep slash on her side. Kiba dodges at the last second. She would have been dead if she hadn't.

With a scream, she stabs the head of the beast with her sword. She turns it around a few times. When she takes it out, blood splashes her face and clothings, the wall and even the first row of spectators.

She lets herself fall on the floor, back to the wall.

She's won, but at what cost.

___

Keith and Lance, dressed in their gear, sneak out of the circus.

The Star's Fortune is parked at the city's spacesport. It makes the job of finding the stealth they are supposed to board much easier.

Keith looks around. He doesn't recognize any of the ships. He makes an annoyed noise at the back of his throat. Obviously, it would have been too simple if it had just been the one next to them.

He signs at Lance to follow him. He stays low to the ground, a hand ready to grab his sword anytime.

He skirts around a black spaceship who'd seen better days.

Bingo, here it is. He runs to it, Lance on his heels. They flatten themselves against the outer wall of the craft. He feels around, trying to find the opening. His fingers find a ridge on the metal. He follows until he can press his fingers on a button.

The craft opens.

"Stay at the back," a voice says. "If you get captured, it's better if you don't know who I am."

Lance leans closer. "You all have a bit of a problem with paranoia," he says.

Keith rolls his eyes. "It isn't paranoia if there really is someone trying to kill you."

Lance opens his mouth but doesn't say anything before closing it again. He tilts his head as if to say _fair enough_.

"I can't stop on Canox, so you'll have to jump," the pilot says.

"That was not part of the plan!" Lance says.

"You'll be fine," Keith promises, with a wave of the hand.

The ship lurches up.

They don't have to stay long in the air before the moment of jumping out comes. He glances at Lance, who looks about ready to throw up his heart. Keith must concede that most people don't usually throw themselves of a moving spacecraft.

The door opens.

Keith bends his knees, ready to jump. Wind is blowing in, strong and cold. Lance is very pale. Keith holds out his hand to him. Lance takes it with a relieved but small smile. They hold hands tightly.

"Ready?" Keith asks.

"Fuck no."

Keith laughs and jumps, dragging Lance with him.

The fall is short.

They land on the roof of the prison with twin groans of pain. Keith's knee is on fire, and he's almost sure he twisted something in his shoulder. He rolls on his back and stares at Lance who is sprawled on his belly.

"You okay?"

"I'm on the edge of death," Lance says, only slightly dramatically. "Let's never do this again."

"Sounds like a good plan."

Wincing, Keith sits up. Lance pushes himself up from his position of pancake on the floor to a standing one. He helps Keith up.

They find the trap door. It's an old looking thing who doesn't have a lock. When they inspect it, though, they don't find any way to get inside.

Lance tries jumping on it. It doesn't work.

"I'm running out of ideas, now," he admits.

Keith holds out his knife. "Let's just do it the old way," he says, and carves out a hole in the trapdoor.

"That works," Lance says.

He sticks his head in the opening. The corridor is empty. "Coast clear."

Keith jumps inside. He lands with a crouch, rolls and stands up in one smooth motion. Lance comes in head first, grabs the edge of the opening, and bends himself through the hole, before letting go.

Keith crosses his arms, watching him with unimpressed eyes. "No need to show off."

Lance sticks his tongue at him.

"Where are we going again?"

"21st floor," Keith reminds him.

He slams himself against the wall and stops Lance from going further with an arm around his chest. He sticks a hand on his mouth to keep him silent. Lance watches him with wide blue eyes.

A sentry passes next to them, not looking their way.

They hold their breath. Even the beating of Keith's heart seems too loud. He expects the sentry to turn around any moment now.

It continues its course.

They wait a bit more until it turns into the next hallway. Keith releases a shaky breath and lets Lance go.

"I was two seconds away from biting your hand," Lance informs him. He looks a bit shaken, though, and Keith doesn't believe him.

He risks a glance into the corridor the sentry came from. No one. He signs at Lance to follow him.

They find the elevator at the end of what looks like an abandoned hallway. Keith supposes the last floor of the prison is rarely used. It's lucky for them.

He sticks his sword between the two doors and pries them open. They make a sound dull sound. He uses his body to keep them open, pushing with his back and one foot.

"Get inside," he hisses to Lance.

"This is a terrible idea," Lance tells. "I didn't tell you when I saw the plan, but I feel it's important to mention it now. If I fall to my death, it is entirely your fault."

Keith groans. "Duly noted. Now if you could rush your plummet to death, it'd be really fucking nice."

Lance sighs dramatically. He crawls under Keith's leg.

Effortlessly, he jumps in the elevator shaft and catches the cable. "See you on the 27th floor!" He shouts, already making his way down.

Keith snickers. He jumps after him. The doors slam close behind.

___

Sleazy Mahk is landing the ship when Hunk turns around and levels Pidge with a stare.

"So, you never told me, how to you plan to get into the prison?" He asks. He fakes nonchalance by continuing his lunch, not looking up from his plate. He misses his mouth which kind of defeats the purpose.

Pidge watches him with a raised eyebrow. "I'm gonna get captured."

"Sorry, I think I misunderstood," Hunk says. His spork is halfway between the plate and his mouth, which proves the seriousness of the situation. "You want to what?"

"I want to get captured," Pidge repeats.

Sleazy Mahk turns around, looking over his shoulder. "And how do you plan on doing that?"

Pidge shrugs. "I host an illegal radio disclosing Galra position in the galaxy," she says. "I have a bounty on my head."

Hunk makes a choking sound. He points at Pidge, then Mahk, then Pidge again.

Sleazy Mahk makes a wheezing sound. "Your face is hilarious, Hunk."

Hunk glares at him. "You knew about this crazy plan?"

Sleazy Mahk tilts his head, apparently unconcerned about Hunk's accusatory tone. "Who do you think tipped the Galra that we are currently traveling with a dangerous criminal?"

Hunk gasps dramatically. "God, you do deserve your nickname of Sleazy Mahk."

Sleazy Mahk grins and it looks like a knife on his face, all sharp black teeth and pointy tongue. "Guess I do."

Hunk mutters under his breath. It is not entirely comprehensible, but Pidge catches a number of swear words. She rubs his shoulder in a comforting manner. "Don't worry, I won't stay captured for long," she reassures him.

Hunk throws his hands in the air. "How can you be so sure? Also, I would have appreciated being put in the confidence before we entered Fejilos' atmosphere."

Pidge purses her mouth. "I'm sorry. I didn't want to make you worry. I know how you get and you've already done so much for me."

Hunk shakes his head. "You are my friend, Pidge. I want to know. If anything happens to you, what am I supposed to do now?"

Pidge smiles at him. "You are not supposed to do anything. Our deal was for you to get me on Fejilos. The rest is my part."

Sleazy Mahk taps his fingers on the dashboard. "Not to cut your touching discussion or anything, but the Galra patrol just saw us."

Hunk sends him a thundering gaze. He takes the Comm and turns it on.

"Ship ID and landing destination," a voice says over the Comm.

"Delta 839. We are landing in Kapi'iera."

There is a moment of silence. The tension rises in the air. Even Mahk, usually sprawled on his chair, unconcerned with the rest of the world, is sitting straighter.

"You can go," the robotic voice says, eventually.

Pidge feels like she can breathe easier. The relief is only marginal, though. This is only the beginning of her plan. She knows she made it as soundproof as possible, but it is also full of risks. She could end up stuck in a prison for the rest of her life, unable to leave, unable to search for her family.

Hunk looks at her from the corner of his eyes. "Are you okay?" He asks. His voice is concerned and fearful.

Pidge nods. "Yes," she says.

She needs this information and if she has to risk her freedom to have it, she will not hesitate.

Sleazy Mahk lands them without hesitation. He sends a glance to Pidge before opening the doors of the ship. She nods, confirming her readiness.

Galra sentries fill the already cramped cockpit. They grab Pidge by the arms, lifting her a good meter over the floor. She kicks and screams and swears in all three languages she knows. She needs to make her capture believable.

They drag her outside. The hangar is wide and filled to the brim with Galra ships. She can spot a few foreign crafts, but they seem lost in a sea of purple and pink.

"You have caused us quite a lot of trouble."

Pidge tilts her chin up, looking at them defiantly. "If a single radio show announcing some of your positions in the universe is causing you trouble, then your Empire is not as powerful as it pretends to be."

The Galra soldier pushes her. She stumbles. "Silence," he orders. She sneers, but doesn't say anymore. She needs them to believe her cooperative.

She looks over her shoulder. Hunk is standing, his hand gripping the edge of the door. She winks at him. His face is pale and the luminescent ananas on his skin are glowing brighter than ever. Sleazy Mahk is leaning against the wall of the ship, looking as comfortable as he ever is. Maybe he is, Pidge thinks. He'll get his reward, she supposes.

_

The treck to the prison is short and fast-paced. Galra are a tall species, and Pidge struggles to follow their pace with her short legs. But soon enough, Canox enters her vision, a cylinder of black metal shooting to the sky, coursed with purple lights, terribly off against the green color of the sky.

Pidge has to crane her neck to even see the top of the tower. It looms over the city like a vengeful god, covers a part of the city with its two shadows.

She hasn't realized she's stopped walking until the Galra sentry pushes her with the tip of its blaster. She forces her legs to move. Every step takes her closer to her objective, and she can feel the phantom weight of it on her shoulders.

She runs her tongue against the back of her teeth.

Inside is bleak and dark. Purple lights illuminates the corridor, cold and harsh. It sharpens angles, cuts corners and make blasters and armors glisten. The sentries look taller and more threatening in their element.

The sound of soldiers walking rythms their own way through the corridors. Left, right, left right. Metal clings against metal. Blasters being adjusted are ominous in the otherwise quite silent prison.

Pidge has learned the blueprints by heart. An octogone of metal, with the cells on the outside walls. The inside is empty, floors open to have the view on the very bottom of the tower. On the ground, the arena, where horrifying death matches are conducted.

And Pidge needs the Champion.

They stop. Two sentries are standing in the hall. They ask for the soldier's ID. He is not looking at her anymore. It's her time to act.

She hooks her tongue on the back of her teeth and dislodges the scrambler there. She raises her handcuffed hands and fakes a cough to stick the scrambler on the cuffs.

They open with a clicking sound.

She jumps away before they've even fallen. She throws the cuffs behind her as she starts running. She only has a few seconds of head start.

Shouts pierce the relative quiet of the corridors. Blaster shots flies by her, barely missing. She rolls out of the way. Right, left, first door, she knows the way.

Her heart is pounding in her chest.

A sentry appears on the right where she was supposed to turn.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," she curses.

She doesn't have time to think. She throws herself on the floor. She slides between its legs. She kicks the joint, and the sentry crumbles. She grabs its blaster and shoots behind, not even aiming.

She scrambles up and runs again. Her breath is short and shallow. She won't be able to keep this up.

She emerges at the center of the tower. She barely avoids toppling over the barrier. She dashes left. She is so close to her objective now. Some prisoners watch her run away. The gaggle of sentries not far behind her is loud and not discreet.

Here.

She throws herself against the wall between two cells. She plugs her programmed key in the panel. She types 27th floor and jumps inside the freight elevator.

She is just in time. Outside, the steps of her pursuers come right outside her hidden place. She holds her breath.

They don't even stop. "Split up!" A Galra soldier yells.

Pidge breathes a sigh of relief. The elevator starts moving up.

She can hear her blood rushing in her ears. She can't seem to calm her erratic heart, and her hands are trembling. She curls up tighter on herself. She can barely move in the narrow space.

The elevator rises silently. She doesn't know how much time has passed before she feels it slow down.

She adjusts her grip on her stolen blaster. She will have a handful of minutes to find the cell and open it. The door opens. She doesn't move.

Nothing happens.

She slides outside. She looks right. Looks left. She is alone. "235,"she whispers.

She's paid a handsome amount to get this information. It is true what they say, though. You can find anything you want at the Black Whole. Even cell numbers of Galra prisoners.

225, 226, she reads, making her way around the tower. She stays close to the walls and doors of the cell, worried that the sentries will see her if they look up.

235, finally.

"Stop right now."

She freezes.

She turns around, hands raised. Standing in front of her are two people. She thinks people as their body are completely humanoid. She immediately notices their weapons. One of them is carrying a sword while the other has a sniper blaster trained on her. The swordsman has broad shoulders. He stands knees barely bent, muscles tensed, ready to lash at any moment. She doesn't doubt he'd be on her in a second if she tried anything. The other is lanky, standing one feet behind. Long range fighter.

"Who are you?"

Pidge clicks her tongue. She doesn't have time for this. "Doesn't matter. I'm not Galra."

The broad one takes a step forward. "Answer the question. Who are you?"

"Name's Pidge."

"And why are you here, Pidge?"

"None of your business."

Her body hits the wall as she is pushed. She gasps in pain. Her helmet is ripped away from her head. A hand is around her throat, squeezing. Her lungs are burning and tears are forming in her eyes.

"Keith! Fuck, she isn't Galra, look at this. She looks... like you."

Pidge turns her head to see the lanky one running. He yanks his attacker, Keith, away. Keith lets her go.

She coughs, on her hands and knees. "I'm here to break a prisoner out. I don't have any business with you."

Keith hisses. "Fine."

He takes his sword and faces the cell's door. "Are you just going to kick the door open?" Pidge asks.

"Why are you still here?"

"Because my prisoner is in this cell."

"No way, ours too!"

"Lance, shut the fuck up."

"But that's a crazy coincidence, though."

Pidge takes a deep breath. She pushes Keith out of the way. "You won't get it open with a simple sword."

"What do you suggest, then?"

She shrugs. "A sentrie's hand should do the trick."

Lance throws his arms in the air. "Yes, because I obviously carry Galra robots' hands in my purse all day long."

Blaster shots hit the wall. Lance ducks, throwing himself on the floor. Pidge flattens herself against the wall. "Here are your sentries," she says.

Keith twirls his sword once. He hides behind the wall.

He beheads the coming sentry in one smooth motion. Its head rolls on the floor. The body continues walking for a couple of seconds like a chicken. It crumples on himself with the sound of metal hitting the floor.

"Well, if we were not discovered before, it's done now," Lance says.

"Catch!" Keith calls. He throws the sentrie's arm to his partner.

Lance scrambles to catch it and almost drops it. Pidge rolls her eyes. He presses the hand on the door's pad. It scans for a second before opening the door.

Two heads turn toward them when they enter. The first one belongs to a Galra woman. Her ears are pointy and low on her face. Her jaw is square, her eyes two thin yellow slant.

The other belongs to a humanoid creature with skin as black as the darkest parts of the universe. It is cut by golden slashes all over his body, and it takes a second for Pidge to realize they may be scars.

"Shirogane Takashi?"

"Shiro," he corrects. He looks at her. His eyes are two pools of gold, swirling and mesmerizing. "Matt?" He says.

Pidge's heart stops. "No, I'm P- Kathie. Matt's little sister," she says. The name, her name, tastes strange on her tongue. She hasn't spoken it since the erasers up there in the Black Whole made her disappear from the Galra system. "I'm here to rescue you. I want to know where my brother is."

"Great, this is explained, now let's get the fuck out of here," Lance says.

Pidge looks right to realize the other prisoner has an arm slumped around Keith's shoulders and is already being led outside. "Let's go," she says to Shirogane Takashi.

He stands up. His clothes are ragged and he looks malnourished. She can clearly see the gold scar on his nose now. He could have been human, but three eyes blinks at her instead of two.

They've run out of luck, though.

Galra soldiers and sentries are running towards them from the other side of the tower.

"Go, go, go!" Keith urges them.

Pidge looks around for an exit. "How did you get in?" She asks Lance.

"Trash chute."

He startles to a stop, turns around and shoots. His shot hits a Galra right in the chest, sending him backwards. Keith throws himself at a sentry and uses his weight to send him over the barrier. It falls down and crashes on the floor.

"Well done, Keith!" Lance says. "Now you've alerted everyone in the damn prison that we are here."

"They already know we are here," Keith mutters. He stabs his sword through a sentry. It crumbles around the blade. Keith yanks it out.

Pidge readies her weapon. Shiro stops her with an arm in front of her chest. Only now she realizes it is different from the rest of his body. It looks like a prosthetic arm made of medal.

It starts glowing pink.

In two steps, Shiro is on the next sentry. He cuts it in half, swinging it through its waist like a blade.

"So glad he's on our side right now," Lance says. Pidge can't help but agree.

Pidge catches Lance's arm. "Lead us back to the trash chute."

Lance frowns. "We won't be able to leave by the way we came in. We entered by the top"

"How the hell did you- You know what, I don't care. I have a plan. Just follow me."

__

Lance adjusts his gun on his shoulders. He's not sure they have the right idea. They are basically following a complete stranger who they encountered in rather suspicious fashion through enemy territory.

They turn right. He grimaces at the group of sentries in the way to their objective. "It's getting crowded up here, we really need to get out."

"That's the plan," Keith says.

In any other situation, Lance would probably take offense at his sarcastic tone, but hearing his voice is comforting. Knowing that Keith is alive and well enough to talk is good when he doesn't have the time to turn around to check on him.

"Almost there," Pidge informs them.

They run to the end of the hallway. Pidge opens what looks like a trash chute. "We are going to jump in here."

He pokes his head in, only to stare at a long tunnel going straight down. "This is such a bad idea."

"Don't have the time to think about it."

"We are on the 27th floor."

"We don't have a choice."

"We are going to die. Just so you know."

Lance stares at Pidge. Her gaze doesn't waiver though, as she stands her ground. He can hear the sentries getting closer. He looks back again at the chute. "Keith, we are throwing ourselves down the trash chute."

Keith turns around. "This is fucking crazy."

Pidge stubbornly holds her ground. "I know what I am doing."

Keith stares at her for a second. "You are going first."

Pidge cants her chin up. She attaches her blaster to her belt. "You better be behind me," she says. She squares her shoulders, grabs the upper edge of the opening, and swings inside.

Lance waits for the sound of bones crushing or screams or anything else that could help analyze what the situation actually is right now, but nothing comes.

"Lance!" Keith hisses. "If we have to fucking die, at least let's die trying to live."

"Shut up," he mutters and turns toward Kiba.

She is slumped against the wall. She's in bad shape. Lance holds out his arm. She takes it. "Sorry I can't be more help," she says.

Lance shakes his head. "We knew the risks when we took the mission. This isn't on you."

Kiba stares at the hole for a moment. She climbs, sitting on the edge. She doesn't seem very comfortable with this plan and Lance understands her. He doesn't want to fall 27th floor down either.

"See you at the bottom," she says and lets herself fall.

"They are here!" A Galra soldier screams. Lance shoulders his weapon, aims and shoots. The damage is done, though.

"Fuck," Keith curses. "You," he points at Shiro,"get inside."

Lance is too busy keeping the hallway clean to look behind him. Aim, shoot. Aim, shoot. Two down, three to go.

"Lance, let's go," Keith says.

He runs for it. He jumps head first in the chute. He sees metal, no bottom. He closes his eyes.

__

He doesn't die.

One moment he is falling, the next, he seems to be floating.

The stench of garbages reaches his nose. He opens his eyes. He wonders for a moment if this is his punishment for a life of pandering to the Galra.

The room they are in is covered in garbage trash, like brown stinky clouds flying around the ceiling. Lance tries to avoid one, but ends up spinning around instead of getting of the way. The bag collides with him. Lance shudders in disgust.

"Pidge!" He shouts.

She appears between two trash bags, grinning. Her glasses are askew and her top has a tear on the arm. "You don't have to thank me, don't worry. I already know you are incredibly grateful for saving your life and remembering that the garbage room has zero gravity to use the place to its maximum."

Lance stares at her, speechless. "How did you know?"

She grins. "I bought it. Information is as much a currency as anything else."

Her voice is familiar, Lance realizes. He can't quite put his finger on it, but she reminds him of someone, or something. He shakes his head. It isn't really the time to wonder if he's met her before.

Keith appears in his vision, scowling and pulling Kiba behind him. "We need to get out of here."

He looks more comfortable in zero gravity than Lance would have expected him to.

Pidge crosses her arms. "A thank you wouldn't be amiss," she grumbles.

"We have to find a way to get out first," Shiro says, from behind Lance.

He jumps, surprised by not hearing him. It makes sense, though. Flying doesn't make much noise.

They all stare at the door of the room with different thoughtful expressions. Pidge pushes back her glasses on her nose, even though she didn't need too. Keith is wrinkling his nose in his typical cute expression of concentration.

The door explodes.

They all crash to the floor with an ungodly amount of trash bags over them. Lance climbs out of the mountain of trash. He picks off various fruit from his clothes, trying very hard not to puke. "Pidge, if you're the one who did this, I will make you eat the fucking trash bags!"

A chorus of groans answer him.

"Hunk!" Pidge's voice shouts with delight.

Lance pulls himself up as much as he can to discover a huge alien with skin glowing with various circuitry coursing along his exposed limbs.

"Pidge!"

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

Hunk squares his shoulders, raises the enormous blazer he's been holding with two of his arms and says: "I came to rescue you, obviously."

__

Pidge jumps out of the trash piles and hugs Hunk. She has never been so glad to see her friend. Hunk picks her up with his two remaining arms, and holds her tightly. She kicks her legs playfully, her feet at least ten centimeters over the ground.

"I'm really glad to see you," she says, in his chest. With her fingers, she traces some of the circuitry on Hunk's skin. The gesture is comforting.

He puts her down, smiling softly. "Me too."

"We don't have time for cute reunion," Keith groans.

Pidge turns around and glares at him. "I saved us from death, and he got us out of the garbage room. What have you done until now? Nothing. So we deserve our cute reunion and you get to shut up for the two minutes it takes."

Lance bursts out laughing. Pidge glances at him and can't help the little smile at the corner of her lips. He reminds her of her brother she realizes. The thought leaves a bittersweet aftertaste in her mouth.

__

Hunk observes the faces around. Two of them are dressed in prisoners clothes. One of the is a Sand Crawler. He recognizes it to the black skin and golden scars.

Sand Crawlers are bad news, but consering the other prisoner is a Glara, it must be the one Pidge rescued.

The other two occupants of the room are  two masked individuals. One of all long limbs in a dark blue suit. The other is broad with strong legs in a purple get up.

Mahk ducks under his arms to appear in the room. He grins all his black teeth. Hunk still gets unsettled by his smile.

"Hi everyone! I'm Mahk, but creatures usually call me Sleazy Mahk for my sunny personality!" He introduced himself, obnoxious as always. "I'm here to rescue our resident criminal: Pidge."

"I don't need your help," Pidge grumbles.

Sleazy Mahk leans against the wall, his long tongue slithering in view for a second. "I have a plan to get out of here though."

Pidge levels him with a suspicious glare. Hunk is surprised himself. "You have a plan?" He asks.

Mahk grins bigger if it's even possible. "Out, out, I need everyone out for the plan."

He hushers everyone out of the room. The two strangers in mask stand close together, whispering, obviously close. There's familiarity between them, and trust. They've known each other for some time.

The room is octogonal, and a huge control panel thrones in the middle. Pidge's face lightens up when she takes in the mess of machines and cables around the new hall.

Hunk watches her trail her finger along the edge, impressed. He shares the same urge to open it and take it apart, to see how everything works inside.

She turns around to face Mahk. "So what's the plan?"

Mahk bends down to retrieve the fallen arm of a sentry. Hunk isn't sure how it arrived here, but Pidge seems to recognize it. She squints at Mahk with a suspicious look. "What do you plan to do with that?"

Mahk slaps the hand on the control panel. He turns around, makes a small pirouette. "Various creatures of the universe, I will now demonstrate my ability to-" He slams his hand on a button. "fuck things up!"

Alarms start blaring all around the prison. Lights blink red.

The purple soldier slams Mahk against the wall. "What did you do?" He snarls.

Mahk winces, eyeing the blade against his neck with weariness. He smiles, but it looks forced and uncomfortable. Hunk isn't sure he feels bad about him right now. "I opened every single cell in the prison," he chokes out.

The grip on his throat tightens. "And what do you think that was a good idea?"

A gasp from Pidge probably saves Mahk's life. "Mahk, you are a genius!" She shouts.

Pidge throws herself to the control panel. She frowns a little, trying to decipher Galra writing, but she seems to know enough to find what she is looking for. A map of the entire prison appears on the holographic screen. "This is where we are," she explains, showing them a point at the very bottom of the tower. "There are only two exits in the prison. The main entrance and the back entrance."

"There's one on the roof," the alien in his dark blue suit contributes, maybe unnecessarily to the conversation.

"Shut up, Lance."

"Rude, Keith."

Hunk snorts despite himself. Their easy banter speaks of a familiarity that makes him amused and pleasantly surprised. They were intimidating at first. Not so much now.

"Yes, Lance, do shut up," Pidge says. "There is another exit, though, but it only opens in case of high emergency."

The map twirls around to show a small bright spot at the bottom of the map.

"Does the entirety of the prison being released counts as an emergency?" Lance asks, leaning against the wall in an entirely too purposeful fashion.

Pidge, who's taken her helmet off to fiddle with map, pushes her glasses back on her nose. She means business. Hunk feels himself smile just by seeing her determinate gaze. "Yes," she confirms. "Yes it does."

"Glad I could be of help!" Mahk says.

A quite high number of eyes glare at him. Sleazy Mahk quiets down right away and makes himself scarce.

"How do we get there?" One of the prisoners asks. "Kiba isn't in any shape to walk long distance."

She shrugs. "Get her on your back or something, because we'll have to run."

__

The exit is unfortunately on one of the balcony of the fight rink. The only way to access it with the lockdown is to go through the rink and climbing directly on it from the highest level of the seats.

They find the corridors full of bodies strewn on the floor. Galra soldiers, sentries or prisoners, it doesn't make a difference. The prison is full of fighting noises and Pidge instinctively grips her blaster harder.

Shiro is carrying Kiba, which makes him the most vulnerable to attacks. Kiba herself doesn't look good. Her face is pinched with pain and her breathing is ragged. The slash on her side isn't looking good.

Keith is the first of their group and Lance is at the back. Pidge had watched them take their position without even consulting each other.

Steps.

Keith raises his sword, ready to strike at any moment. A prisoner appears at the corner. They look like a shaggy brown wolf with a lizard tail. They glance at them but doesn't stop their course.

They quickly understand why. Chasing after the wolf is a group of sentries. Some of them are missing an arm but they are still functional enough.

Keith slashes the legs of two of them in one swift movement. Lance, from behind them, shoots one directly in the end. It falls backward on its companion.

Two left.

Hunk, on her right, has been cursing non-stop under his breath since they left the control room. He grabs one of the sentries and throws it against the wall, under Pidge's astonished gaze. It breaks down and crumples on the ground.

Pidge shoots at the last one. She misses her first shot. It comes dangerously close to her. It swings at her. She falls backward with a small cry.  A small knife lodges itself in its head. Pidge rolls out of the way and the sentry falls on the floor where she had been a second ago.

Mahk retrieves his knife, twirling it between his fingers. "Well, that was a bit to close for comfort," he says. Pidge can't say she disagrees.

She takes his outstretched hand. Mahk pulls her to her feet.

"Come on," Keith urges them.

The next intersection they find a group of prisoners.

"Who are you?" They ask.

"We don't you any trouble," Hunk says. "We just want to pass."

"You seem to know where you're going," a prisoner says. "Plus, I haven't seen any of your faces before."

Keith grips his sword, but Lance stops him with a hand on his wrist. "We are just trying to find a way out, just like everybody. Plus, we value our lives, that's why we've been running. If we could avoid sentries it'd be really cool. Don't you think so? I think you agree with us. We are just poor workers or recently captured criminals - dashing criminal in my case."

Lance barely avoids a blaster shot. Keith snarls and throws himself at the prisoner. He impales him with his sword. The blade drips with green blood when he stands up.

"Any other volunteers?" He says, and swipes his sword on the clothes of the dead alien.

The rest of the prisoners,  three people, shake their head. They leave by another hallway without so much as a word.

"That was brutal," Sleazy Mahk comments, an appreciative smile on his face. Leave it to him to enjoy bloody violence. "Effective though."

"We don't have time to stop," Keith says. "Let's go."

It happened so fast, Pidge only sees the consequence.

They burst out on the rink. Hunk shoulders someone, throwing them on the floor. Shiro ducks under an arm, a moaning Kiba in his arms.

Mahk bends over and falls on the floor. Pidge runs at him. His eyes are closed and he is curled on himself.

He curses, and Pidge doesn't recognize the word itself, but it sounds like Lik.

She kneels next to him. "Are you okay? Mahk! Mahk! Answer me!"

She peels his hands away. They are covered in something dark and shimmering. Blood, she realizes, his blood. "God, you are bleeding."

She tries pressing her own hands against the wound. She still doesn't know how it happened. "Fuck, that hurts," Mahk says, with a rough voice.

"Shut up, don't tire yourself!" She groans. She turns around. "Anyone has something to die around his waist to stop the bleeding?"

Lance joins her on the floor. His face is grim. He lays a hand on her arm. "This isn't looking good," he says.

"Stop it, he's... he's going to make it!" Tears are building behind her eyes.

Mahk coughs. "At least I'll die dramatically," he rasps. "Seems appropriate for the rest of my life."

"Don't be stupid," Pidge says. "We are gonna get you out of here, we'll find someone to heal you."

Mahk opens his eyes. They aren't their usual yellow, but a shimmering undefined color. "You don't like me," he reminds her. "Just save yourself and let me go."

"No, I refuse to just let you die!"

He pushes something in her hand. "Take it," he says, and his voice is nothing than a whisper now. "Now, let me fucking die in peace."

She opens her hand and finds a small knife. The blade is dark as onyx, and the handle is a pretty brown. Dark glittering blue, his blood, stains it.

Someone grabs her by the waist. She screams. She yells and throws her legs and arms around, but they don't let her go. "I'm sorry," Hunk says and throws her over his shoulder.

___

They manage to find the exit, hidden behind the seat of the Director of the prison.

Inside is dark. Lance can only see an endless tunnel occasionally lit with red lights. It gives the scene an ever more dramatic atmosphere.

Pidge, slumped against Hunk, is sobbing. Her hands, arms and face are covered with Mahk's dark blood.

In the dark, Lance finds Keith's hand and links their fingers together. It isn't much, but it makes him feel marginally better. Keith bumps their shoulders together as a small comfort.

The passageway opens on an huge room. It must have been hidden under the prison, Lance realizes.

They take a step forward.

Soft blue light fills the place. And in the middle of it, is an enormous Lion.

The Lion is sitting, unmoving. The blue light illuminates her beautiful body, cutting her angles sharp, dancing on her metallike water under the sun. God, she is gorgeous.

A murmur at the back of his mind, like a gentle song, beacons him closer. Come, it sings, come, I'll show the universe.

He glances at Keith. He is staring too, his purple eyes wide and deep. "Lance," he breaths, and the word seems too loud in the silence of the room.

He falls silent again. What is there to say when a giant lioness is in front of you?

Lance takes a step toward her. Her barrier is bathing the room in a gentle blue. It's the only source of light in the room. Lance can almost feel her comfort through it, like a gentle caress on his skin.

He raises his hand. His fingers are so close, and fear grips his heart. Maybe she isn't meant for him. Maybe he's been mislead. Maybe he isn't good enough. He is just him, after all, just Lance. A boy who isn't even with a circus anymore. A lost boy, scared of the future

He looks back.

They are all there. Pidge, her round glasses perched on her freckle nose, her eyes darting around furiously. Shiro, holding a hurt Kiba. Hunk, twisting his hand, looking concerned. And Keith is there, his eyes filled with fire, with purpose.

He isn't much. None of these people are much. But they are something, together, even after only a short time. You don't come from fear like this, from pain like this. They were linked together now.

The barrier opens in front of him.

He gasps.

Light appears in her eyes, and Lance knows, she'd been waiting for him.

__

Under the light of a dying star, on a planet at the edge of the Universe, sits two figures in front of a table. They have both the same translucent skin, white hair, and veins colored with dark shimmering blue, reminiscent of a starry sky.

One of them moves a piece on their board.

"A bold move," one of them says.

The other laughs. "You know me, I like being bold."

"I prefer more subtle actions myself," the first says.

A third joins them. He looks quite different. Black teeth, a long tail and yellow eyes, a mouth stretched in a lazy smile. He drops the disguise. His skin turn as translucent as the others. His veins reappear, his hair turns white. He gains two arms and one eye. His grin, though, stays the same, arrogant, uncaring.

"Mahk, I heard you died."

Mahk gives her a small curt. "Almost is the operative word, dear Pauline," he corrects with a mocking drawl. "And you, Kader, gave up your circus?"

"That I did," Kader says. "How did it feel to _almost_ die?"

"Hurt like a bitch," Mahk says and sits down with them at the table. "So, whose turn is it now?"


End file.
